


What the Hellhound

by bluewhisperstale



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Hellhounds, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, i fucking hate tagging this shit, just make whatever ships u want i don't fucking care, unless you want to see it another way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-08-24 01:23:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8350795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluewhisperstale/pseuds/bluewhisperstale
Summary: Reader has been hunting with the brothers since they were young, and has been invited to live with them in the bunker. They've generally gotten along well, but when the reader's pet is no longer a secret, how do they take it?





	1. Dammit, Samsquatch

**Author's Note:**

> *insert usual "first-fic-don't-judge!" title and shit here*

The low rumble of the Impala rumbled through the bunker's garage as you polished your bike. Smiling, you stood up and walked over to where Dean parked the car, your thick boots creating a steady rhythm on the cement floor. Dean flashed a grin at you, winking as he slammed shut the car door.  
"Wanna help me load these bags in the house?" he asked, his voice dripping in false flirtation. You rolled your eyes. Dean's artificial smile was still plastered on his face, trying to guilt you into bringing in the groceries, but you knew better; he'd ask for your help and then leave you to do the rest. Tauntingly, you stuck out your tongue, brushing some of your hair out of your eyes.  
"Nice try, Winchester," you tease. "I know better than to expect that you'd help me." Dean slapped a hand over his chest, gasping in mock stupor.  
"Why, I'd never," he smirked. You laughed, patting his cheek as you walked past him. When you first met him, he'd try to get back at you for making him bring them all in, but now he was smart enough to know not to mess with you ("Dean, for the hundredth time; I don't know who put the glitter in your shampoo!” and “Well, Dean, maybe if you kept your porn away from my porn then you would still have that delicious pecan pie from the diner yesterday!” were just some of the great one-liners that you remembered from when Dean tried to mess with you).  
You waltzed past the library, where Sam sat with his eyes glued to the laptop. Grinning, you walked over and ruffled his hair. He jumped, standing and whipping around to face you. He nearly threw a punch, but your quick hunter reflexes stopped him just short of hitting you. Sam’s eyes grew wide, then shallow, and he slumped back down into his chair.  
“S’rry,” he muttered, rubbing his face in his hands. “I didn’t mean to hit you. Just tired, is all.”  
“No shit, Sherlock,” you laughed, watching the corner of his lip curl upwards. “And you didn’t hit me. My ninja-reflexes managed to stop your tree branch from hitting my face at the last moment.” You didn’t even think it was that funny, but he apparently did. He chuckled, then laughed, and then bellowed as tears poured down his face. It was then that you recognized the three empty beer bottles hiding behind his char leg, and the smell of B.O. from days without showering. It suddenly clicked together, and you internally sighed at the prospect of hauling Sam’s 6’4” ass into bed.  
“Alrighty,” you said, squaring your shoulders and standing up straight, with your arms over your chest. Your (E/C) eye’s met his tear filled ones as you stared him down- well, technically it was up, but whatever. “When’s the last time you got more than 2 hours of sleep?”  
His laughter died down, and he almost looked guilty. He stared at his hands fiddling in his lap, and mumbled something under his breath. You smirked. He actually was acting like you had power over him. True, there was more than one occasion where you had pinned his moosey ass to the mat when sparring, and could easily overpower any monster you came across, but the prospect of the tallest man you ever knew- and probably would ever know- being intimidated by you even in the slightest almost had you rolling on the floor in tears of laughter.  
“What was that?” you questioned, raising your eyebrows. He looked at you, smirking in the slightest, and spoke up so that his voice was a solid murmur.  
“Couple days,” he rubbed the back of his neck. Pursing your lips, you tsked and shook your head.  
“Dammit, Samsquatch,” you laughed. “You know that’s not healthy. C’mon, let’s get you into bed.” Sam only frowned.  
“But there could be cases…” he trailed off at your stern look. “Sam,” you reasoned, softly but firmly. “Our last hunt was a week ago, and we’ve all been scouring the net ever since. I think you could use some rest; it doesn’t make sense to go into any hunt, if we even did find one, if we’re sleep deprived. I don’t mean to be rude, but you’d be a liability. Chances are, you’d be more of a nuisance than a help. Could get someone hurt-”  
“I think I get it,” Sam interjected, raising his hands in mock surrender. He let out an airy laugh, glancing back at his laptop. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say there was longing in his eyes.  
“Sam…” you started, but he cut you off with a resigned sigh.  
“Okay,” he yawned. “You’re probably right.”  
“Damn straight,” you whispered. He didn’t hear, however, because he had taken no more than three steps before collapsing on the spot. You yelped in surprise, barely steadying yourself as he fell onto you. Carefully, you tried to lower him gently on the floor, but he slipped an almost bashed his skull on the floor before you caught the scruff of his shirt collar. You stared at his long figure, out cold on the ground. You knew that, though strong as you were, it would take a lot of energy and a lot more strength to bring him to his bed. Asking Dean was completely out of the question; you were sure that he’d taunt you about being unable to carry his ‘little’ brother to his bed. Naturally, that left you with one option.  
Quickly and silently, you pursed your lips and let out a low, single-note whistle. Within moments, you felt the hairs stand up at the base of your neck. Grinning, you turned around to face a massive black dog.  
Kneeling beside Sam, you turned to face your Hellhound, who had cocked his head to the side. A look of innocent confusion had you wondering why people were so adamant on hating them before they got to know the sweet animal that was waiting to be tamed. Letting your hand wander over to scratch his ears, you looked him in his demon black eyes.  
“We’ve got to bring Sam back into his room,” you started, gripping Sam’s armpits and hoisting him up. “Can you help me?”


	2. Shit- I forgot about Dean

He blinked, and you knew he understood. The Hellhound was smart, very smart, and although that didn’t stop you from time to time babying him, it was a great help on hunts. He strutted forwards, and you heaved Sam halfway up the massive dog before he had to lower himself so you could throw the man over him like a burlap sack. Standing up, you nodded at the Hellhound. He stood up, his face level with yours, and strode out of the room.  
It wasn’t until you heard his feet padding down the hallway that you remembered Dean.  
Using your somewhat telepathic link, you tried to tell the Hellhound to stop, but it was too late. A bellowing, “Sammy!” resounded off the walls and had you sprinting down the hallway, gun drawn, until you saw a pale-faced Dean staring up at Sam. You honestly had no idea how he could’ve seen him until you remembered that the Hellhound was only visible for you. You swallowed thickly, excuses and thoughts racing through your head. As painful as it was, you decided that lying was your best option- for the moment.  
“What?” you whisper-yelled at Dean. “What is it?” He turned to you like you were insane, which wasn’t all that hard to understand.  
“What d’you mean, ‘what?’” he spoke harshly. “Sam’s unconscious body is flying, that’s what!” You feigned a surprised look, and your years of lying must have payed off, because Dean again looked at you like you were insane.  
“I sent Sam to bed a while ago,” you spoke softly, putting your gun back in the waistband of your pants. “Maybe you should head on in, too.” Dean’s mouth opened and closed, reminding you of a fish out of water. Not wanting to further embarrass him, you walked closer and put a hand on his arm. You peered into the kitchen, seeing a few groceries left in the plastic bags.  
“I’ll deal with the rest of the groceries,” you patted his arm gently. “Just, please, go to bed. You’re starting to freak me out.” Begrudgingly, after many stern looks by you that made him sway on the spot, he huffed a ‘humph’ and stalked off to his room, occasionally looking back at Sam’s suspended body in the air.  
You let out a breath of relief.  
You turned back to face Sam and your pet, nodding. He nuzzled you, nearly knocking you over, and continued on to Sam’s room. You didn’t totally understand how he knew where his room was, but you didn’t really care.  
It took you only about twenty minutes to put away the groceries, and by the time you were done you were beyond exhausted. Thoughts raced through your mind about the next day. How would Sam react to you saying you dragged him to his room? Sure he’d be skeptical, but eventually he’d have to admit that there couldn’t possibly be another way.  
And then there was Dean. Boy, oh boy, he’d sure give it to you. He had actually seen Sam ‘floating’ in mid-air, and there was no way he could ever admit it was due to alcoholism and sleep-deprivation. You’d think of something. Hopefully.


	3. Can we stay?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so yeah! I know I don't post much on here, sorry, I'm more active on tumblr;( let me know if you want any recommended blogs or anything where I read and get ideas from!

“…I didn’t even have that many drinks, either!” You heard Dean whisper to Sam over the table. You slowed down, listening just outside the doorway. There was some shuffling before Sam responded.  
“I know,” he muttered. “And I may not have been in great shape, but I know that she couldn’t carry me- not without support. I mean, she’s strong-”  
“But you aren’t exactly a little guy,” finished Dean. He sighed. “You don’t think…”  
“What?” Sam inquired.  
“Well, remember way back when all we had to deal with was Yellow-Eyes?” Dean started slowly. You didn’t hear anything, but assumed he nodded because Dean continued. “You could move stuff with your mind sometimes, right? And there were others. So… what if she’s… y’know, psychic or some crap. Explains how she got you to your room and levitated you or something.”  
There was a long minute of silence. When no one said anything, you walked back a few feet before walking into the kitchen. They boys looked up, slightly startled. At least they didn’t hear you.  
“Morning, Sammich,” you grinned falsely. After half a moment’s hesitation, he chuckled. “Did you get good sleep last night? You were pretty out of it.”  
“Yeah,” he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know. But I got some sleep, so I guess that’s pretty good.”  
“That’s good,” you murmured as you grabbed a mug of coffee. “Don’t want you going all dipsy on me when we’re hunting. Gotta have you watch my back.”  
“Don’t worry, Y/N,” Dean snarled at her. “You can trust us. Question is, can we trust you?” You froze. It would be easier to feign indifference, but they already knew, so there was no point in faking anymore.  
“Alright,” you threw your hands up. “Ask away.” The boys looked surprised.  
“You’re… you’re not going to try and-” Sam started.  
“Snake my way out of this one?” You finished. “Nah. Figured you guys wouldn’t stop bothering me until I did, and chances are you’d be less likely to trust me when I continually denied what happened.”  
“Smart,” he grinned.  
“Speaking of what happened,” Dean interjected. You gulped. “What the hell was all that? Cause I know I saw Sammy here floating mid-air, and u hardly had any drinks.”  
“First of all, your definition of ‘hardly any drinks’ is very different than most peoples,” you stated firmly. Sam smirked. “Secondly… well, I think it’s better to show you.” You closed your eyes, concentrating. They boys exchanged nervous glances, looking back up at you once you released a breath.  
“…well?” Dean questioned after a moment. “Is something supposed to happen? Because I don’t feel-” He stopped short when he saw you smiling fondly at something to his right. But there was nothing there.  
Wait.  
He felt something tickling his elbow. He looked and found nothing. Sam saw nothing, either. Sensing their confusion, you called out.  
“It’s okay, boy,” she sang. “You can show yourself. Don’t be scared. Momma’s here.”  
“‘Momma’?” Sam breathed out, not believing his eyes.  
In front of them, a large mass appeared. It seemed to be made up of swirling black shadows, but quickly became solid in form. Its head reached up to Dean’s shoulder as it- he- sniffed Dean’s ear. The boys quickly backed away, drawing out their guns.  
“Woah, whoa!” you called out, standing in front of your pet. “Guys, don’t shoot! Please! He’s harmless- well, unless I command him. It’s okay.” You turned behind you to hear him whimpering in fear. “Please, I’m begging; put them down. You’re scaring him!”  
“Oh, yeah,” Dean scoffed. “He’s scaring us. Y/N, that’s a friggin’ hellhound.”  
“I know,” you pleaded. “But please, just hear me out. I can command him. Our connection is like one between a demon and their hellhounds- except I’ve only got one hellhound and I’m not a demon!” You rushed, as their eyes swept to you. Hesitantly, Sam tucked his gun in his waistband. Dean looked at him, incredulous, before lowering his gun. He kept it out, though.  
“Thank you,” you sighed. You turned to your pet, scratching his head. “Now, I know he’s scary, but he’s a big old teddy bear. Really! You’ve just got to… warm up to him.”  
“Okay…” Sam broke the silence after a minute. “So, Y/N, how long…”  
“How long have I had him?” you completed for him. He nodded. Dean kept his face stone still. “Well, when I was a new hunter, I killed a demon. Nothing magical about it, except he had a young hellhound with him. When I killed his master in front of him, I guess their bond was passed onto me. Now I can communicate with him, telepathically, and sort of keep him as a pet. Named him Trouble, respectably. Honestly, though, he’s more like my best friend. No offense.”  
“Right,” Dean grimaced. “No offense taken in being second to a mutt from the seventh circle.”  
“Rude,” you uttered. “You guys are always my favourite humans. He’s just my favourite non-human. Besides Cas. But still. I love him- hell, I’ve used him to save all of our asses more than once- but I would never have considered bringing him or myself to the bunker without being absolutely sure that he wouldn’t go all ‘demonic Pitbull’ on you guys.”  
The boys looked at each other, uncertain. Finally, they slowly walked forwards.  
“We’ll give him a shot,” Sam spoke cautiously, as though he still feared the dog. Slowly, he lent out a hand. Trouble sniffed it before nuzzling the top of his with it. Sam laughed, and Trouble barked happily. Dean looked at him, suspiciously. Finally, after watching the three of them play for nearly an hour, he sat closer. Trouble slowly padded over to him, head down. Dean smirked, reaching out a hand. Trouble immediately yelped in joy, licking up his face.  
“Uck!” Dean exclaimed as the two of you laughed. “Gross!”  
“He’s still cute,” you sighed. You looked hopefully up at them. “So… can we stay?”  
“Of course,” Sam reassured her. “As long as we can all see him, and he hunts with us. I want to see exactly what he’s made up of.”


End file.
